Please Tear Along Dotted Line
by ForestGlenny
Summary: Meditations upon what might happen if Sirius didn't. Be warned this is pretty much plotless! But my brother dared me to write it, and I can never resist a good title! UPDATED 12 MARCH 04


Title: **Please Tear Along Dotted Line**  
Author: Forest Glenny  
Rating: G  
Summary: Meditations upon what might happen if Sirius didn't.  
Disclaimer: Me no own Harry Potter. But I might consider hostile takeover if JKR doesn't hurry up with that fifth book.  
Written 27 Oct 02 Updated 12 March 04

Notes: This was inspired by my brother. He was making Ramen noodle soup, and asked me what would happen if he didn't tear the chicken flavor packet on the line. My brother isn't as weird as this would make him seem.

Sirius stared intently at the merrily bubbling water, which is what he had been doing for some five minutes by now. In that time, his cerulean eyes had gone glassy and blank from over exposure to the hot steam. He finally blinked, leaning back from the stove and striking a triumphant pose.  
"I told you so!" he shouted, "Watched pots _will_ boil."  
He then remembered that he was the only one present to hear the news of his discovery. Feeling more than a little sheepish, he turned back to his watched pot. He was ready to add in the pasta.  
You see, Sirius was in the process of making Ramen noodle soup.   
He watched delightedly as the curly, golden dough tumbled from the bag into the water waiting patiently below. Crumpling the orange plastic and tossing it into the waste bin, he leaned over to take an appreciative sniff. In doing so, he properly singed the inside of his nose. Spouting a string of curses, he leaped away from the stove and over to the sink.  
After several minutes of trying to find the best way to put cold water on his burn, he realized that he had nose drops upstairs in the cupboard. He went to make use of them, and returned shortly, the tender mucous membrane already feeling much better. He had also tied back his obsidian hair, for he had realized that its length created another invitation for a burn.  
When Sirius had regained his position at the stove, it was time to add in the chicken flavoring. He looked at the little tin packet, reading the directions aloud to himself.  
"Please tear along dotted line. Shake contents over noodles. Let simmer until done."  
Very carefully, he separated the pocket into two pieces. He gingerly sprinkled the curry-like substance over the contents of the pot, making sure he covered the water's surface evenly. Every motion held a religious purpose, for in Sirius' mind Ramen _was_ a religion. He covered the pot with a glass lid.  
Now, to wait. He sat down at the kitchen counter, leafing through a fashion magazine in his boredom. Unfortunately for him, it was all in French. This made perfect sense, seeing as he was currently stationed in the south of France. The house belonged to a muggle cousin of Remus', who was abroad in Alaska, filming a documentary on some kind of beetle. It (the house - not the beetle) was comfortable, built in a small hill village that was remote and quiet. It was the perfect place to lie low for a while, especially since there was no television reception (or, more importantly, wizard populace) here. No one had heard of the escaped convict from Britain.  
Sirius glanced at the clock- a big, wooden thing with a floral theme. The numbers were wrapped in caricatures of neon ivy and hot pink roses. This made the clock both ugly and difficult to read. He couldn't figure out how much time had passed, but impatience told him that it had been enough.   
He crossed the kitchen once again, grabbing a bowl from the cupboard and a ladle from its hook. He removed the lid using a colorful potholder, being careful not to inhale the steam. The smell of chicken made his mouth water as he ladled a big portion of noodles into his bowl, replaced the lid and went to sit at the counter once again.   
Contentment began to fill him as Sirius spooned the soup into his mouth. There was nothing quite so good as Chicken Ramen on a rainy day in the south of France. His mind wandered as the contents of his bowl dwindled. His eyes noticed the foil packet where he had left it sitting on the counter.   
"Please tear along dotted line," he mumbled to himself between swallows.  
But why? Marking where to open a foil packet is all well and good, but what's the importance of it? If one tore anywhere else, would the contents differ from their intended state?  
These were Sirius' thoughts as he ate his soup. It had never even occurred to him to tear a packet anywhere other than on the line. He started to wonder what might happen if he tore it differently.   
Of course, he knew all along that he was being silly. What started out as chicken seasoning would stay chicken seasoning... well, usually anyway.  
"I could always test it," he said aloud.  
"Test what?"  
He spun around, for the voice had come from the front hall. Then the speaker entered the room- a smiling (and rather wet) Remus, mischief dancing through his amber eyes. Sirius laughed. His good friend looked something like a drenched tabby.  
"Hullo, Rem."  
"H'lo Siri. How's the wolf treating you?"  
Sirius gave him a quizzical stare. "But you've only just arrived!"  
The shorter man heaved a dramatized sigh. "It was a pun, my friend. You are currently in a small village by the name of Montagne du Loup. In English, that means Mountain of the..."  
"Wolf. I get it now." The tan man smiled. "That was pretty good."  
Remus gave a mock bow. "What do I win?"  
Sirius was about to shoot him another quizzical stare, when he noticed his friend looking rather wolfishly at the pot still on the stove. "I guess I'd better make some more."  
"Yes, I rather think you should." The werewolf trotted over to the other chair at the counter, clearing some mail off the seat before sitting down. Sirius busily set about boiling more water and getting more Ramen out of the pantry. This time, when it came time to add in the seasoning, he ripped open the opposite side of the packet, just to prove to himself that the soup would taste the same. For a while, the warm kitchen was filled with the domestic sounds that do every body good. Neither man said anything until the second batch of soup was finished and served.   
"So," said Remus after he had finished half his bowl, "What were you trying to test?"  
Sirius grinned shyly. "I was wondering what would happen if I didn't tear on the dotted line."  
Copper eyes gave him an odd look. "I think you've spent too much time away from people."  
The two men laughed, and it was all good.

* 

"The sign of wisdom is a continual cheerfulness."  
- French proverb 

A/N: (updated 12 March 04) Well, I got so many reviews on this, and I realized that I had made some weird errors, so this is an edited copy for posting. It's funny going to read your old work and finding out how different your style used to be.... anywhoo, thank you very much for reading! Please leave a review!  



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